


THE SISTERS 

A TRAGEDY 



THE SISTERS 



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BY 

ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE 



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NEW YORK 
UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY 

S UCG SSSO IIS TO 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 

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COPVRIGH 



ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE. 



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1110(1 DIRECTORY 

PRINTING />N0 BOOKBINDING COMPANY 

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TO THE 

3Latrg iSarg ffiorlron 

THIS PLAY IS GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED 

BY HER AFFECTIONATE 

NEPHEW. 



DEDICATION. 



Between the sea-cliffs and the sea-shore sleeps 

A garden walled about with woodland, fair 
As dreams that die or days that memory keeps 

Alive in holier light and lovelier air 

Than clothed them round long since and blessed them there 
With less benignant blessing, set less fast 
For seal on spirit and sense, than time has cast 
For all time on the dead and deathless past. 

II. 

Beneath the trellised flowers the flowers that shine 

And lighten all the lustrous length of way 
From terrace up to terrace bear me sign 

And keep me record how no word could say 

What perfect pleasure of how pure a day 
A child's remembrance or a child's delight 
Drank deep in dreams of, or in present sight 
Exulted as the sunrise in its might. 
7 



THE SISTERS. 

in. 

The shadowed lawns, the shadowing pines, the ways 
That wind and wander through a world of flowers, 

The radiant orchard where the glad sun's gaze 
Dwells, and makes most of all his happiest hours, 
The field that laughs beneath the cliff that towers, 

The splendor of the slumber that enthralls 

With sunbright peace the world within their walls, 

Are symbols yet of years that love recalls. 

IV. 

But scarce the sovereign symbol of the sea, 
That clasps about the loveliest land alive 
With loveliness more wonderful, may be 

Fit sign to show what radiant dreams survive 
Of suns that set not with the years that drive 
Like mists before the blast of dawn, but still 
Through clouds and gusts of change that chafe and chill 
Lift up the light that mocks their wrathful will. 

v. 

A light unshaken of the wind of time, 

That laughs upon the thunder and the threat 

Of years that thicken and of clouds that climb 
To put the stars out that they see not set, 
And bid sweet memory's rapturous faith forget. 

But not the lightning shafts of change can slay 

The life of light that dies not with the day, 

The glad live past that cannot pass away. 



THE SISTERS. 

VI. 

The many colored joys of dawn and noon 

That lit with love a child's life and a boy's, 
And kept a man's in concord and in tune 
With lifelong music of memorial joys 
Where thought held life and dream in equipoise, 
Even now make child and boy and man seem one, 
And days that dawned beneath the last year's sun 
As days that even ere childhood died were done. 

VII. 

The sun to sport in and the cliffs to scale, 

The sea to clasp and wrestle with, till breath 
For rapture more than weariness would fail, 
All-golden gifts of dawn, whose record saith 
That time nor change may turn their life to death, 
Live not in loving thought alone, though there 
The life they live be lovelier than they were 
When clothed in present light and actual air. 

VIII. 

Sun, moon, and stars behold the land and sea 

No less than ever lovely, bright as hope 
Could hover, or as happiness can be : 

Fair as of old the lawns to seaward slope, 
The fields to seaward slant and close and ope : 
But where of old from strong and sleepless wells 
The exulting fountains fed their shapely shells, 
Where light once dwelt in water, dust now dwells. 



10 THE SISTERS. 

IX. 

The springs of earth may slacken, and the sun 
Find no more laughing lustre to relume 

Where once the sunlight and the spring seemed one ; 
But not on heart or soul may time or doom 
Cast aught of drought or lower with aught of gloom 

If past and future, hope and memory, be 

Ringed round about with love, fast bound and free, 

As all the world is girdled with the sea. 



THE SISTERS 

A TRAGEDY 



PERSONS REPRESENTED. 

Sir Francis Dilston. 

Sir Arthur Clavering. 

Frank Dilston, son to Sir Francis. 

Reginald Clavering, cousin to Sir Arthur. 

Anne Dilston \ twin-sisters and coheiresses, for- 

Mabel Dilston ) merly wards of Sir Francis. 

Scene, Clavering Hall, Northumberland. 
Time, 1816. 

CHARACTERS IN THE INTERLUDE. 

Alvise Vivarini, represented by Reginald Clavering. 
Galasso Galassi, " " Frank Dilston. 

Beatrice Signorelli, " " Mabel Dilston. 

Francesca Mariani, " " Anne Dilston. 



ACT I. 

Scene I . — A morn ing room . 

Anne and Mabel. 

anne. 
April again, and not a word of war. 
Last year, and not a year ago, it was 
That we sat wondering when good news would come. 

MABEL. 

And had not heard or learnt in lesson-books 
If such a place there was as Waterloo. 
And never dreamed that — 

ANNE. 

Well? 

MABEL. 

That it would be 
So soon for ever such a name for us 
As Blenheim or Trafalgar. 
i5 



1 6 THE SISTERS. act i. 

ANNE. 

No. For us? 
We don't remember Blenheim — and we had 
No cousin wounded at Trafalgar. Still, 
If Redgie had been old enough to serve — 

MABEL. 

I wish he had chosen the navy. 

ANNE. 

And come home 
Unhurt ? 

MABEL. 

No ; I forgot. Of course he might 
Have died like Nelson — and gone home with him. 

ANNE. 

Home? Reginald's not quite so tired of life, 

I fancy, though he frets at being kept in, 

As to look up — outside this world — for home. 

MABEL. 

No. 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 1 7 

ANNE. 

Will you tell me — but you will not — me, 
Even — 

MABEL. 

What? Anything I can I will. 

ANNE. 

Perhaps you cannot — what he said to you 
Yesterday ? 

MABEL. 

When? 

ANNE. 

You will not now, I know. 

MABEL. 

Where? 

ANNE. 

When and where? If you must needs be told, 
At nine last evening in the library. 

MABEL. 

Nothing — but what I meant to tell you. 



1 8 THE SISTERS. act i. 

ANNE. 

Yes? 
You meant to tell me that he said, my dear, 
What? 

MABEL. 

Anne ! 

ANNE. 

You thought I knew? 

.MA I 1 . EL. 

I thought I must 
Have said it without speaking. 

ANNE. 

Reginald! 
And so you really mean to love the boy 
You played with, rode with, climbed with, laughed 

at, made 
Your tempter — and your scapegoat — when you 

chose 
To ride forbidden horses, and break bounds 
On clays forbidden? Love! Of course you like — 
And then how can you love him? 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 19 

MABEL. 

Is dislike 
Mother of love? Then you — to judge by signs — 
Must love Frank Dilston dearly. 

ANNE. 

So I might, 
If — if I did not hate him. 

MABEL. 

Then you do. 
I'm glad. I always liked him. 

ANNE. 

What has he 
Done, that a woman — or a girl — should like 
Him? 

MABEL. 

Need a man — or boy — do anything 
More than be true and bright and kind and brave 
And try to make you like him? 



20 THE SISTERS. act I. 

ANNE. ' 

That spoils all. 
He should not try. 

MABEL. 

I'll tell him not to try. 
Enter Reginald Clavering and Frank Dilston. 

ANNE. 

Redgie! You've not been riding? 

REGINALD. 

Have I, Frank? 

FRANK. 

You'd have me tell a lie to get you off? 

ANNE. 

You stupid pair of schoolboys! Really, Frank, 
You should not let him. 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 21 

FRANK. 

/can't lick him, Anne; 
We two — or you alone — might manage. 

ANNE. 

Why, 

The grooms must know he should not mount a 

horse 
Yet. 

REGINALD. 

Would you have me never ride again 
Because last year I got a fall? 

ANNE. 

Appeal 
To Mabel. 

REGINALD. 

She was always hard on me. 

MABEL, 

Always. 



22 THE SISTERS. ACT I. 

ANNE. 

You mean that I encouraged you 
To risk your neck when we were girl and boy? 
Make him sit down, Frank. 

REGINALD. 

There. And now we'll talk 
Of something — not of nothing. 

ANNE. 

Of your play? 

REGINALD. 

That's ready. How about your stage? 



ANNE. 

Indeed? 

REGINALD. 

It's just one little act, you know — 
Enough for four and not too much, I hope, 
To get by heart in half a pair of days. 



But is it 



SCENE I. 



THE SISTERS. 23 



ANNE. 

In one day? No: I am slow at learning verse — 
Even if my part were shorter than the rest. 

REGINALD. 

It is. 

ANNE. 

Ah ! Thank you. 

FRANK, 

Mabel's I have read. 
It's longer. 

MABEL. 

As the whole affair is short, 
It cannot be much longer. You should rest, 
Redgie. Come out and feed the pheasants, Anne. 

^Exeunt Anne and Mabel. 

REGINALD. 

How like old times it is, when we came back 
From Eton ! You remember, Frank, we played 
— What was it? — once. 



24 THE SISTERS. act i. 

FRANK. 

"What was it? " There's no such play. 

There's "What you will": perhaps we played 

"Twelfth Night" 
In frocks and jackets. Might we now not play 
"Love's Labour's Lost"? 

REGINALD. 

"A Midsummer Night's Dream " : 
I know, because I played Lysander — you 
Demetrius. 

FRANK. 

How the female parts were cast 
You don't remember? 

REGINALD. 

Helena was Anne, 
I think, and Hermia Mabel. 

FRANK. 

Change the names. 



scene I. THE SISTERS. 25 

REGINALD. 

Ah, yes. All friends from more than twelve miles 

round 
Came in to our Yuletide gathering through the 

snows. 
How quick and bright Anne's acting was! you two 
Bore off the palms all round : Mabel and I 
Were somewhere short of nowhere. 

FRANK, 

Will you now 
Retaliate? She and you were plotting this, 
Must we suppose, last evening? 

REGINALD. 

She and I, 
Frank? We should make but poor conspirators. 

FRANK. 

I hope so, and I think so. Seriously, 
May not I ask — ? 

REGINALD. 

If she and I are friends? 
Surely a man may ask and answer that, 



26 THE SISTERS. act i. 

If — as you do — he knows it. If you mean 
More — I would hardly tell a brother this, 
Who had not been so close a friend of mine 
Always, and had no right to ask me this — 
No. 

FRANK. 

Then she does not think — she has no cause — 
She cannot think you love her? 

REGINALD. 

Can I tell? 
But this I can tell — she shall never come 
To think or dream I do, and vex herself, 
By any base and foolish fault of mine. 

Frank. 
But if she loves you, Redgie? 

REGINALD. 

No, my boy. 
She does not. Come, we need not talk of that. 
I think mock-modesty a mincing lie — 
The dirtiest form of self-conceit that is, 
Quite, and in either sense the vainest. You 
She may not love just yet — but me, I know, 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 2J 

She never will. I ought to say "Thank God," 

Being poor, and knowing myself unworthy her 

— A younger son's son, with a closed career 

Should peace prove now as stable as it looks — 

If I on my side loved her as I should 

And if I knew she would be, as I fear — 

No, hope she will, happier with you than me. 

I can't do that, quite; if I could, and did, 

I should be just a little less unfit 

To dream that she could love me — which I don't. 

FRANK. 

You don't mean that you want me — 

REGINALD. 

I do mean 
I want her to be happy: as for you, 
If I don't want you to be miserable 
It only shows I am not quite a cur. 

FRANK. 

You never were: but if you meant me well, 
What made you go campaigning and come back 
A hero ? 



28 THE SISTERS. 



ACT I. 



REGINALD. 



Six months' service! Don't you be 
A fool — or flatterer. 



FRANK. 



Still, you have (worse luck!) 
Such heavy odds — a wound, and Waterloo! 



REGINALD. 



If I — or you — had lost an eye or arm, 
That wouldn't make us Nelsons. 



FRANK. 



Something like. 



REGINALD. 

Well, you can do that in the hunting-field. 

FRANK. 

I wish I had you in the playing-fields 
Again. 

REGINALD. 

We can't just settle it with fists. 
But, if you asked me, as of course you don't 



scene I. THE SISTERS. 29 

And won't, what she and I were talking of 
Last evening, I could tell you — and I will. 
I asked her if she thought it possible 
That two such baby friends and playfellows 
As she and Anne had been with you and me 
Could, when grown up, be serious lovers. 



FRANK. 

Well- 
Was that not making love to her? And what 
Did she say? 

REGINALD. 

Hardly. No. Certainly not. 



FRANK. 

And then ? 

REGINALD. 

The bell rang, and we went to dress 
For dinner. 

FRANK. 

What did she say — if she did — 
To make you ask her that ? 



30 THE SISTERS. act i 

REGINALD. 

Something she did — 
At least, I thought so — likj a fool. And now 
We'll talk no more about it. Mind you, Frank, 
I didn't — could I possibly? — forget 
That just because I love her — more than you 
I won't say — she must never dream I do 
If I can help it. 

FRANK. 

Then, in heaven's name, why 
Say what you say you did? 

REGINALD. 

Don't fret yourself. 
No harm was meant or done. But if she does 
Love you — if you can win her — as I think 
(There!) — you're the happiest fellow ever born. 

FRANK. 

And you're the best, Redgie. By Jove! she ought 
To love you, if she knew how you love her. 



scene i THE SISTERS. 3 I 

REGINALD. 

And that, phase God, she never will. When you 
And she are married, if you tell her so, 
You'll play the traitor, not to me but her — 
Make her unhappy for the minute. Don't. 
She would be sorri2r than I'm worth, you know, 
To think of any sorrow not her own 
And given by her uncon3ciou3ly. She had 
Always the sweetest heart a girl could have. 
"Sweet heart"! she might have been the first girl 

born 
Whose lover ever called her by the name. 

FRANK. 

Redgie, I don't know what to say to you. 

REGINALD. 

Say nothing. Talk about our play. 

FRANK. 

Your play ! 
We are like to play, it seems, without a stage, 
Another, and a sadder. 



32 THE SISTERS. act i. 

REGINALD. 

Don't be sure. 
My play is highly tragic. Italy, 
Steel, poison, shipwreck — 

FRANK. 

One you made at school, 
Is it? I know what those were. 

REGINALD. 

Wait and see. 
E?iter Sir Francis Dilston. 

SIR FRANCIS. 

Well, Frank, — how are you, Reginald? — you let 
Mabel go out — and unattended ? 

FRANK. 

Come, 
Father, you would not have me (think how she 
Would hate it!) hang about her like a burr? 

SIR FRANCIS. 

No — no. But there's a medium, sir, between 
Neglect and persecution. 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 33 

FRANK. 

Well, I hope 
And think I've hit that medium. 

SIR FRANCIS. 

Reginald, 
If you were Mabel's lover, or in hope 
To be her lover, could you slight her so? 

REGINALD. 



I can't imagine that condition. 



SIR FRANCIS. 

Then 
You youngsters are no more your fathers' sons 
Than moles are sons of eagles. 



FRANK. 

Rats of cats, 



Say, father. 



SIR FRANCIS. 



Eh! was that an epigram? 
The point, my boy? Because we worry you? 



34 THE SISTERS. act i. 

FRANK. 

Because we scuttle where you used to spring, 
And nibble when you used to bite. At least, 
You say so — or they say so. 

SIR FRANXIS. 

Heaven forbid ! 
Tom Jones and Lovelace were not gods of ours. 
But if we meant to win and keep a heart 
Worth winning and worth keeping, Frank, we knew 
We must not seem to slight it. "Pique and soothe, " 
Young Byron bids you — don't stand off and gape. 
There may be better means than his, if you 
Love as I trust you love her. There's the bell. 

[Exeunt. 



scene ii. THE SISTERS. 35 



Scene II. — In the Garden. 
Frank and Mabel, 
frank. 
I may not say what any man may say ? 

MABEL. 

To me? And any man, you think, may say 
Foolish and heartless things to me? or is it 
Only the heir of Heronshaw who claims 
A right so undeniable? 

FRANK. 

Is the taunt 
Fair to yourself or me? You do not think — 

MABEL. 

You have the right to make mock love to me? 
I do not. 

FRANK. 

How have you the right to call 
Truth mockery, knowing I love you? 



3 6 THE SISTERS. 



act I. 



MABEL. 

How should I 
Know it? If you mistake me now for Anne, 
You may mistake her presently for me. 

FRANK. 

Anne? 

MABEL. 

If you care for cither cousin — much, 
It ought, by all I ever heard or read, 
To be the one you are always bickering with. 

FRANK. 

She does not like me. 

MABEL. 

She does not dislike. 

FRANK. 

Her liking would not help nor her dislike 
Forbid me to be happy. You perhaps — 
I can't guess how you can — may think so : she 
Cannot. And if I did — worse luck for me! — 
What chance should I have? Can you net have 
seen 



scene ii. THE SISTERS. 37 

— Not once — not ever — how her face and eyes 
Change when she looks at Redsrie ? 



MABEL. 

What! — Absurd! 
You love her, and are mad with jealousy. 

FRANK. 

Mad if I am, my madnass is to love 
You. But you must have seen it. 

MABEL. 

I am not 
Jealous. 

FRANK. 

You need not have an eye to see it. 
Her voice might tell you, when she speaks to him. 

MABEL. 

The tone is just like yours or mine. Of course 
We all make much — or something — of him now; 
Since he came back, I mean. 



38 THE SISTERS. act i. 

FRANK. 

From Waterloo ; 
I knew it — an interesting young cousin. Well, 
He does deserve his luck, I know; he did 
Always: and you were always good to him. 

MABEL. 

He always needed somebody, poor boy, 
To be so. 

FRANK. 

Ah, if that were all ! Because 
His guardian, my good father, — good to me 
Always — his cousin, in whose grounds we now 
Walk and discuss him — and his schoolmasters, 
You think, were apt — 

MABEL. 

To ill-use him? No; nor yet 
Misunderstand him: that I did not mean. 
But she who knew him and loved him best is 

gone — 
His aunt and mine — your mother. ( 



scene ii. THE SISTERS. 39 

FRANK. 

Yes: she did 
Love him! she must have loved his mother more 
Than many sisters love each other. 

MABEL. 

More 
Than I love Anne or Anne loves me ? I hope 
Not. But when death comas in — and leaves 

behind 
A child for pledge and for memorial, love 
Must naturally feel more — I want the word; 
More of a call upon it — not a claim — 
A sort of blind and dumb and sweet appeal 
Out of the dark, and out of all the light 
That burns no more but broods on ail the past — 
A glowworm on a grave. And you, I know, 
Were never jealous: all the house knew that, 
And loved you for it as we did. 

FRANK. 

Ah — as you 
Did! I'd have had you love me more than they, 
If it had not been too great and sweet a thing 
For me to dream of. 



40 THE SISTERS. act i. 

MABEL. 

Do not dream at all. 
What good can come of dreaming? 

FRANK. 

Less than none, 
If dreaming, doubt, or fear, should take away 
The little comfort, such as it is — God knows, 
Not much, though precious — that your kind last 

words 
Gave me. Too kind they were, Mabel. I was, 
And am, jealous of Redgie; more to-night 
Than ever: but I will not be. 



You will not. Why! 



MABEL. 

I am sure 



FRANK. 



Because I know — I am sure, 
Mabel — more sure than you can be of me 
Or I can of myself — he would not grudge 
Nor envy me my happiness if you 
Could bring yourself to make me happy. 



scene ii. THE SISTERS. ■ 4 1 



Why 



Should he ? 



MABEL. 
FRANK. 

Ask him. 

MABEL. 

A pretty thing to ask ! 
But, Frank, it's good, and very good, of you 
To say so — if you care for me at all, 
And think it possible I could care for him. 

FRANK. 

I think it more than possible : but he 

Does not. You'll have to tell him. Don't let 

Anne 
Hear you. 

MABEL. 

I would not let her, certainly, 
If I were tempted to propose to you. 
Do you think that girls — that women do such 
things ? 



42 THE SISTERS. act i. 

FRANK. 

No: but I do think — think, by heaven! I know — 
He will not tell you what a child might see, 
That he can love, and does, better than I, 
And all his heart is set on you. But Anne 
Loves him: you must have seen it. 

MABEL. 

You love her, 
And do not know it, and take me for her, seeing 
Her features in my face, and thinking she 
Loves Redgie: is not this the truth? Be frank, 
Or change your name for one that means a lie — 
Iscariot or Napoleon. 

FRANK. 

God forbid! 
I tell you what I am sure of, as I am sure 
I wish I were not. 

MABEL. 

Sure? How can you be? 

FRANK. 

Are you not sure ? Be honest. Can you say 

You doubt he would have told you — what he won't 



scene ii. THE SISTERS. 43 

And can't — had he been heir of Heronshaw 
Or Anyshaw? You might have spared that taunt, 
Mabel. But can you say it? You never were 
A liar, and never can be. Tell him then 
The truth he will not tell you. 

MABEL. 

What if he 

Rejects me? This is past a joke. 

FRANK. 

It is. 

MABEL. 

I knew you could not love me. Why make love? 

FRANK. 

I love you ; but I see how you love him ; 

And think you are right. He loves you more than 

I — 
Yes, more than I can — more than most men could 
Love even you. You are no mate for me, 
I am no mate for you, the song says. Well, 
So be it. God send you happiness with him! 
He has done more than give you up — give up 



44 THE SISTERS. act I. 

All chance of you — he would not take the chance 
That honor, as he thought, forbade. Do you 
Reward him. 

MABEL. 

God reward you, Frank! You see 
— It's true — I love him. 

FRANK. 

And he will not speak. 

Tell him to-morrow — and come in to-night. 

[Exeunt. 



scene I. THE SISTERS. 45 



ACT II. 

Scene I. — Another part of the grounds. 
Enter Sir Arthur Clavering and Reginald. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

I'm glad you love the old place: to have you 

here — 
You and the Dilstons — brings my father's time 
Back. I might almost be your father, though ; 
Yours, or your cousins' — Frank's or Mabel's. 

Time 
Slips on like water. 

REGINALD. 

Very softly, here ; 
Less like the Kielder than the Deadwater 
Till both make up the Tyne. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

It wearies you, 
Cousin? Make haste then and grow strong and 
stout, 



46 THE SISTERS. act ii. 

And ride away to battle : till you can, 
I mean to keep you prisoner and be proud 
I have a guest who struck beside the Duke 
An English stroke at Waterloo. 

REGINALD. 

Beside, 
Arthur? There's no one born can boast of that. 
The best we can — the very best of us — 
Say for each other, is just, we followed him — 
His hand and eye and word and thought — and did 
What might be of our duty. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

Well, my boy, 
Did he do more? You're just a hothead still — 
The very schoolboy that I knew you first — 
On fire with admiration and with love 
Of some one or of something, always. Now, 
Who is it — besides your general ? who — or which ? 
Anne's chestnut shell, or Mabel's golden fire — 
Her emerald eyes, or Anne's dark violets — eh? 
You have them both (a* happy hero you !) 
Dancing attendance on your highness. Here 
Comes Mabel: have you not a glove to throw? 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 47 



Enter Mabel. 

Dear cousin, make him talk to you: to me 
He will not; and I have not time to dance 
Attendance on him. [Exit. 

REGINALD. 



Arthur's jokes are not 



Diamonds for brilliance: but he's good. 



MABEL. 



Are you? 



REGINALD. 

You never asked me that of old times. 

MABEL. 

No: 
That was superfluous : all the household knew 
How good a boy you were. 

REGINALD. 

And you? A girl 
There was who loved the saddle as well as I, 
And was not slower at breaking bounds. 



48 THE SISTERS. 



ACT II. 



MABEL. 

You have not 
Forgiven me what you suffered for my sake 
So often — much too often. 

REGINALD. 

No, of course. 
How should I ? 

MABEL. 

You remember our old rides — 
Tell me about your ride at Waterloo. 

REGINALD. 

More like a swim against a charging sea 
It was, than like a race across the moors 
Yonder. 

MABEL. 

But when a breaker got you down — 
When you lay hurt it might have been to death — 
Will you not tell me what you thought of then? 

REGINALD. 

No. 



scene I. THE SISTERS. 49 



MABEL. 



Nothing? 



REGINALD. 

Nothing I can tell you of. 

MABEL. 

Was all a mist and whirlwind — like the shore 
Out yonder when the north-east wind is high? 
That I can fancy. But when sense came back 
You thought of nothing you can tell me of, 

Reginald? nothing? 

» 

REGINALD. 

Nothing I can tell 
Any one — least of all, women or men, 
Frank's wife that is to be, Mabel. 

MABEL. 

And where 
Has Frank concealed her from all eyes but yours? 
You are too sharp-sighted, Redgie. 



50 THE SISTERS. act ii. 



REGINALD. 

Did she not 
Ask me just now what if she knew — she must 
Have known the answer that I could not make — 
It was not right or kind to ask? 



MABEL. 

Not she. 

REGINALD. 

Mabel! 



MABEL. 

She's innocent, at least. 

REGINALD. 

You mean — ? 

MABEL. 

I mean she is not here. Nor anywhere 
But in the silliest dreamiest brain alive — 
The blindest head cheating the trustiest heart 
That ever made a man — untrustworthy. 
You did not dream or think of any old friend — 
Anne, Frank, or me — when you were lying, cut 
down, 



scene I. THE SISTERS. 5 1 

Helpless, that hideous summer night? And now 
You will not speak or stir? O, Reginald, 
Must I say everything — and more — and you 
Nothing ? 

REGINALD. 

My love ! Mabel ! What can I ? - 



MABEL. 



Say 



Just that again. 

REGINALD. 

How can it be ? 

MABEL. 

My love, 
How could it be? 

REGINALD. 

How have I deserved 
This? 

MABEL. 

How can I tell you? Do you tell me 
Now, what you would not tell Frank's wife. 



52 THE SISTERS. act ii. 



REGINALD. 



You know 



I need not tell you. 



MABEL. 

Tell me, though. 

REGINALD. 

I thought, 
Between the shoots and swoon ings, off and on, 
How hard it was, if anything was hard 
When one was dying for England, not to see 
Mabel, when I could see the stars. I thought 
How sweet it was to know they shone on her 
Asleep or waking, here at home. I thought 
I could have wished, and should not wish, to send 
My whole heart's love back as my life went out, 
To find her here and clasp her close and say 
What I could never — how much I had loved her. 

Then 
I thought how base and bad a fool I was 
To dream of wishing what would grieve her. Then 
I think I fell asleep. 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 53 

MABEL. 

And that was all, 

REGINALD. 

And that was all, Mabel. 



Redgie 



MABEL. 

You did — 
You did not think, if she had known — if she, 
Asleep and dreaming here, had dreamed of it — 
What love she would have sent you back for 

yours — 
Yours — how could she be worth it? Did you not 
See, as you lay — know, as your pain sank down 
And died and left you yet not quite asleep — 
How past all words she loved you? Reginald! 
You did not? 

REGINALD. 

How should I have dreamed of heaven ? 
I'm not a saint, Mabel. 



54 THE SISTERS. ] act ii. 

MABEL. 

And what am I 
Who ask a man what, being the man he is, 
He will not ask me — and am not ashamed? 

REGINALD. 

You are more than ever a man whom heaven loved 

best 
Saw shining out of heaven in dreams — more dear, 
More wonderful than angels. How you can 
Care for me really and truly — care for me, 
It beats my wits to guess. 

MABEL. 

It's very strange, * 
Of course: what is there in you to be loved? 

REGINALD. 

There's many a true word said in jest. But you! 
Why, all the world might fall down at your feet 
And you not find a man in all the world 
Worth reaching out your hand to raise. And I ! 
The best luck never finds the best man out, 
They say; but no man living could deserve 
This. 



SCENE I. 



THE SISTERS. 55 



MABEL. 



Well, you always were the best to me ; 
The brightest, bravest, kindest boy you were 
That ever let a girl misuse him — make 
His loving sense of honor, courage, faith, 
Devotion, rods to whip him — literally, 
You know — and never by one word or look 
Protested. You were born a hero, sir. 
Deny it, and tell a louder lie than when 
You used to take my faults upon you. How 
I loved you then, and always ! Now, at last, 
You see, you make me tell it: which is not 
As kind as might be, or as then you were. 



REGINALD. 



I never was or could be fit for you 
To glance on or to tread on. You, whose face 
Was always all the light of all the world 
To me — the sun of suns, the flower of flowers, 
The wonder of all wonders — and your smile 
The light that lit the dawn up, and your voice 
A charm that might have thrilled and stilled the 
sea — 



56 THE SISTERS. act ii. 

You, to put out that heavenly hand of yours 
And lift up me to heaven, above all stars 
But those God gave you for your eyes on earth 
That all might know his angel! 

MABEL. 

There — be still. 

Etitcr Frank (at a distance). 

Here comes our bridesman — and our matchmaker. 

He told me that he loved me yesterday, 

But that you loved me better — more than he, 

And, Redgie, that you would not tell me so 

Till I had made an offer for your hand. 

A prophet, was he not? 

REGINALD. 

Did he say that? 
I'd like to black his boots. 

MABEL. 

You weren't his fag, 
Were you? — Well, Frank, you told me yesterday 
Nothing but truth : and this has come of it. 



SCENE 



THE SISTERS. 57 



FRANK. 

Your hand in Redgie's? All goes right, then? 



MABEL. 



All. 



I did not give him, I confess, a chance. 

REGINALD. 

Frank, I can't look you in the face — and yet 
I hope and think I have not played you false. 

FRANK. 

Well, if you swore you had, Redgie my boy, 
I'd not believe you. You play false, indeed! 
To look me in the face and tell me that 
Would need more brass than nature gave your 
brows. 

REGINALD. 

But how to look your father in the face — 
Upon my honor ! You must help me, Frank. 

FRANK. 

And that I will, Redgie. But don't you dream 
He'll think there's any need of any help, 
Excuse, or pretext for you. Any fool 
Must have foreseen it. 



58 THE SISTERS. "act ii. 

MABEL. 

Yes — I think he must. 
Any but one, at least — who would not see. 
Frank, I proposed to him — I did. He is 
So scandalously stupid! 

FRANK. 

Ah, you know, 
I told you. That was unavoidable. 

REGINALD. 

You sons and daughters of good luck and wealth 
Make no allowance — cannot, I suppose — 
For such poor devils as poor relations. Frank, 
I think 1 see you — in my place, I mean — 
Making the least love in the world to her — 
Letting her dream you loved her! 

FRANK. 

Well, did you? 

MABEL. 

He did. 

REGINALD. 

I don't know how I did. 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 59 



MABEL. 

But I 



Know. 



FRANK. 

I can guess. He never dropped a word 
Nor looked a look to say it — and so you knew. 

MABEL. 

Yes; that was it. 

FRANK. 

When I go courting, then, 
I'll take a leaf out of old Redgie's book, 
And never risk a whisper — nsver be 
Decently civil. Well, it's good to see 

to 

How happy you two are. 

MABEL. 

Hush ! Here comes Anne. 
Enter Anne. 

ANNE. 

I heard what Frank said. And I hope you are 
Happy, and always will be. 



6o THE SISTERS. act ii. 

REGINALD. 

Thanks. And yet 
I know I ought not. 

ANNE. 

Complimentary, that, 
To Mabel. 

REGINALD. • 

Mabel understands. 

ANNE. 

Of course. 
She always understood you. 

REGINALD. 

Did she? No: 
She always made too much of me — and now 
Much more too much than ever. God knows why. 

ANNE. 

God knows what happiness I wish you both. 

REGINALD. 

Thank her, Mabel. 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 6l 

MABEL. 

I can't. She frightens me. 
Anne! 

ANNE. 

Am I grown frightful to all of you? 
Are you afraid of me, Reginald ? 



REGINALD. 

What 
Can ail you, Mabel? What can frighten you? 



ANNE. 

Excitement — passionate happiness — I see. 
Enough to make a girl — before men's eyes — 
Shrink almost from her sister. 

MABEL. 

Anne, you knew 
This was to be — if Redgie pleased. 

ANNE. 

I did; 
And did not doubt it would be. 



62 THE SISTERS. act ii. 

FRANK. 

These are strange 
Congratulations. Anne, you must have thought 
It would not. 

ANNE. . 

What I thought or did not think 
I know perhaps as well as you. And now 
I need not surely twice congratulate 
My sister and my brother — soon to be. 



MABEL. 



Let us go in. 



ANNE. 

You seem so happy too 
That we must all congratulate you, Frank. 

[Exeunt 



SCENE I. 



THE SISTERS. 63 



ACT III. 

Scene I. — Tn the Garden. 

Anne and Mabel. 

ANNE. 

This heartsease bed is richer than it was 
Last year — and so it should be; should it not? 
For your sake and for his, I mean. See here; 
Here's one all black — a burning cloud of black, 
With golden sunrise at its heart; and here's 
One all pure gold from shapely leaf to leaf, 
And just its core or centre black as night. 

MABEL. 

They call them pansies too, you know. 

ANNE. 

But you 
Must call them heartsease now. Tell me — what 
thoughts 



64 THE SISTERS. act hi. 

Have lovers that the lovely plain old name 
Would not suit better than all others? 

MABEL. 

None, 
None that I know of — nor does Redgie. Anne, 
How can we two thank God enough? 

ANNE. 

I'm sure 
I cannot tell you, Mabel. All your thoughts 
Are flowers, you say, and flowers as sweet as these 
Whose perfume makes the rose's coarse and dull; 
And how then could I tell you how to thank 
God? He has given you something — thought or 

truth, 
If truth and thought are not the same — which I 
Cannot, you know, imagine. 



MABEL. 

Ah, you will 
Some day, and soon — you must and will. 



ANNE. 

I doubt 
That. Can the world supply me, do you think, 
With such another Redgie? 



scene r. THE SISTERS. 65 

MABEL. 

That's not fair. 

ANNE. 

I must put up with something second rate? 

Frank, for example — if he'd have me? No, 

Dear Mabel : be content with happiness ; 

And do not dream it gives you power to play 

Providence, or a prophet. Is he not 

Waiting for you — there, by the hawthorns — 

there — 
And, certainly, not wanting me ? 



MABEL. 

He is ! 
I told him not to come and wait for me. [Exit. 



ANNE. 

I cannot bear it: and I cannot die. 
Enter Sir Arthur. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

Our lovers are not here ? Ah, no ; they want 
Seclusion — shade and space between the trees 
To chirp and twitter. Well, no wonder. 



66 ' THE SISTERS. 



ACT III. 



ANNE. 

No. 

SIR ARTHUR. 



The handsomest and happiest pair they are 
That England or Northumberland could show, 
Are they not ? 



ANNE. 

Yes; Mabel is beautiful. 

SIR ARTHUR. 



You don't think much of Redgie, then? 



ANNE. 

He looks, 
With all that light soft shining curly hair, 
Too boyish for his years and trade: but men 
Don't live or die by their good looks or bad. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

You don't call soldiership a trade? And then, 
His years are not so many — not half mine, 
And I'm not quite a greybeard. 



scene I. THE SISTERS. 67 



ANNE. 

Let him be 



Apollo — Apollino if you like, 

Your all but girl-faced godling in the hall. 

He did not win her with his face or curls. 



SIR ARTHUR. 

I am proud to know ha did not. Are not you ? 

ANNE. 

Proud of him? Why should I be ? 

SIR ARTHUR. 

No; of her. 

ANNE. 

O! Yes, of course — very. Not every girl, 
Of course, would condescend — to look so high. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

A fine young loyal fellow, kind and brave, 
Wants no more gilding, doas he? 

ANNE. 

Luckily, 
We see, he does not. Here she comes alone. 
She has sent him in to rest — or speak to Frank. 



68 THE SISTERS, 



ACT III. 



Re-enter Mabel. 
You have not kept him hanging round you long. 
You are not exacting, Mabel. 

MABEL. 

Need I be ? 

ANNE. 

We see you need not. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

Mabel, may I say 
How very and truly glad I am ? 

MABEL. 

You may 
Indeed, and let me thank you. That you must. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

It makes one laugh, or smile at least, to think 
That Master Redgie always was till now 
The unlucky boy — the type of luckless youth, 
Poor fellow — and now it seems you are going to 

give 
Or rather have given him* more than his deserts 
Or most men's, if not any man's. I am 
Glad. 



SCENE I. 



THE SISTERS. 69 



MABEL. 

Please don't compliment. You know I have known 
Reginald all my life — and can't but know 
How much more he deserves than I can give. 

ANNE. 

She has the courage of her faith, you see. 

MABEL. 

Don't play at satire, Annie, when you know 
How true it is. 

ANNE. 

Of course I know it, Mab. 
He always was incomparable. At school 
His masters always said so, and at home — 
Ah, well, perhaps the grooms did. 

MABEL. 

One would think 
You did not know him, and hated him. I wish 
Almost he did not— as he does — deserve 
Far more than I shall bring. 



JO THE SISTERS. act hi. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

Impossible: 
Even if he were — no subaltern, but even 
The Duke himself. 

Enter Frank and Reginald, 
frank. 



Who's talking of the Duke ? 
Ask Redsne what he thinks of him. 



REGINALD. 

No, don't. 
My name's not Homer. 

ANNE. 

Frenchmen say — 

REGINALD. 

Dear Anne, 
Don't you say " Frenchmen say" — say "French- 
men lie." 
They call the man who thrashes them a cur; 
Then what must they be ? 



SCENE I. 



THE SISTERS. 7 l 



SIR ARTHUR. 

Try to tell us, though, 
Something — if only to confute the frogs 
And shame their craven croaking. 

REGINALD. 

What on earth 
Can I or any man — could Wordsworth, even — 
Say that all England has not said of him 
A thousand times, and will not say again 
Ten thousand ? 

SIR ARTHUR. 

Come, my boy, you're privileged, 
You know : you have served, and seen him. 

REGINALD. 

Seen him? Yes. 
You see the sun each morning ; but the sun 
Takes no particular notice and displays 
No special aspect just for your behoof, 
Does it? 

MABEL. 

He never spoke to you ? 



72 THE SISTERS. act III, 



REGINALD. 

To me? 



MABEL. 

Why not ? 

REGINALD. 

He might of course to any one; 
But I'm not lucky — never was, you know. 

ANNE. 

They say that none of you who have followed him 
Love him as Frenchmen love Napoleon. 

REGINALD. 

No. 
How should they? No one loves the sun as much 
As drunken fools love wildfires when they go 
Plunging through marsh and mire and quag and 

haugh 
To find a filthy grave. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

Come, come, my boy! 
Remember — "love your enemies." 



scene I. THE SISTERS. 73 

REGINALD. 

When I have 
Any, I'll try; but not my country's; not 
Traitors and liars and thieves and murderers — not 
Heroes of French or Irish fashion. Think 
How fast the Duke stands always — how there's not 
A fellow — can't be — drudging in the rear 
Who does not know as well as that the sun 
Shines, that the man ahead of all of us 
Is fit to lead or send us anywhere 
And sure to keep quick time with us, if we 
Want or if duty wants him — bids the chief 
Keep pace with you or me. And then just think, 
Could he, suppose he had been — impossibly — 
Beaten and burnt out of the country, lashed, 
Lashed like a hound and hunted like a hare 
Back to his form or kennel through the snow, 
Have left his men dropping like flies, devoured 
By winter as if by fire, starved, frozen, blind, 
Maimed, mad with torment, dying in hell, while he 
Scurried and scuttled off in comfort? 

MABEL. 

No. 
He could not. Arthur quite agrees. And now 
Be quiet. 



74 THE SISTERS. act hi. 



SIR ARTHUR. 

Redgie takes away one's breath. 
But that's the trick to catch young ladies' hearts — 
Enthusiasm on the now successful side. 

MABEL. 

Successful! If we could have failed, you know, 
He would have been — he, I, and you and all, 
All of us, all, more passionate and keen 
And hotter in our faith and loyalty 
And bitterer in our love and hate than now 
When thoughts of England and her work are not 
Tempered with tears that are not born of pride 
And joy that pride makes perfect. 

FRANK. 

Let's be cool. 
I have not seen you quits so hot and red 
Since you were flogged for bathing at the Weir, 
Redgie. 

REGINALD. 

Which time? the twentieth? 



And spoilt me. 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 75 

FRANK. 

That at least. 

MABEL. 

Poor fellow! 

REGINALD. 

Ah, you always pitied me — 

MABEL. 

No one else did, Reginald. 

REGINALD. 

And right and wise they were — a worthless whelp ! 

MABEL. 

Very. Not worth a thought — were you ? 

REGINALD. 

I'm sure 
Not worth a tear of yours — and yet you cried 
Sometimes, you know, for my mischances. 



76 THE SISTERS. 



ACT III. 



SIR ARTHUR. 

Ay? 
So, boy and girl were born for bride and groom, 
Were they? There's nothing now to cry for, then. 

ANNE. 

Arthur forgets : are love and happiness 

Nothing to cry for? Tears, we are told, are signs 

Infallible — indispensable — of joy. 

FRANK. 

Mabel and Redgie, then, must be just now 
Unhappy — very unhappy. Can they fill 
With us their parts to-morrow in his play? 

MABEL. 

Yes: I know mine; and Anne knows hers. 



ANNE. 

And Frank 
His. Does he stab you, Redgie, on the stage? 



REGINALD. 

Yes, as I save him from the shipwreck. 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 77 



IR ARTHUR. 



That's something like a villain. 



Good! 



ANNE. 

I'm as bad. 
I poison Mabel — out of love for Frank. 



SIR ARTHUR. 

Heaven help us, what a tragic day or night! 

It's well the drawing-room and the libraries 

Are all rigged up ship-shape, with stage and box 

Ready, and no such audience to be feared 

As might — I don't say would, though, Reginald — 

Hiss you from pit and gallery. 

REGINALD. 

That they would ! 
It's all a theft from Dodsley's great old plays, 
I know you'll say — third rate and second hand. 
The book, you know, you lent me when a boy — 
Or else I borrowed and you did not lend. 



7§ THE SISTERS. act hi. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

That's possible, you bad young scamp. I wish 
We could have seen it played in the open air 
Boccaccio-like — but that would scarcely suit 
With April in Northumberland. 

ANNE. 

Not quite. 

REGINALD. 

Come, don't abuse our climate and revile 

The crowning county of England — yes, the best 

It must be. 

FRANK. 

•Now he's off again. I 

REGINALD. 

I'm not. 
But I just ask you where you'll find its like? 
Have you and I, then, raced across its moors 
Till horse and boy were well-nigh mad with glee 
So often, summer and winter, home from school, 
And not found that out ? Take the streams away, 
The country would be sweeter than the south 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 79 

Anywhere: give the south our streams, would it 
Be fit to match our borders? Flower and crag, 
Burns! d 2 and boulder, heather and whin — you 

don't 
Dream you can match them south of this? And 

then, 
If all the unwatered country were as flat 
As the Eton playing-fields, give it back our burns, 
And set them singing through a sad south world, 
And try to make them dismal as its fens — 
They won't be! Bright and tawny, full of fun 
And storm and sunlight, taking change and chance 
With laugh on laugh of triumph — why, you know 
How they plunge, pause, chafe, chicle across the 

rocks 
And chuckle along the rapids, till they breathe 
And rest and pant and build some bright deep bath 
For happy boys to dive in, and swim up, 
And match the water's laughter. 



SIR ARTHUR. 

You at least 
Know it, we doubt not. Woodlands too we have, 
Have we not, Mabel ? beech, oak, aspen, pine, 



80 THE SISTERS. act hi. 

And Redgie's old familiar friend, the birch, 
With all its blithe lithe bounty of buds and sprays 
For hapless boys to wince at, and grow red, 
And feel a tingling memory prick their skins — 
Sting till their burning blood seems all one blush — 
Eh? 

REGINALD. 

I beg pardon if I bored you. But — 
You know there's nothing like this country. Frank, 
Is there? 

FRANK. 

I never will dispute with you 
Anything, Redgie. This is what you call 
Being peaceable, is it? firing up like tow 
And rattling off like small-shot? 

REGINALD. 

I can't help — 
Can I ? 

FRANK. 

When you said that at school, my lad, 
It didn't help you much. 



scene I. THE SISTERS. 8 1 



MABEL. 

Don't bully him so. 
Don't let them, Redgie. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

Redgie must be proof 
Now against jokes that used to make the boy 
Frown, blush, and wince: and well he may be. 

ANNE. 

Why? 
Is Reginald much wiser than he was? 
He seems to me the same boy still. 



SIR ARTHUR. 

I think; but now the luckiest living. 

REGINALD. 



He is, 



Yes. 



I'm half afraid one ought not anyhow 
To be so happy. None of you, I know, 
Our brothers and our sister, think it right. 
You cannot. Nor do I. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

A willow-wreath 
For Mabel ! Redgie turns her off. 



82 THE SISTERS. act hi. 

MABEL, 

He might, 
If she would let him : but he'll find her grasp 
Tenacious as a viper's. Be resigned, 
Redgie: I shall not let you go. 

REGINALD. 

I am 

Resigned. But if God bade one rise to heaven 
At once, and sit above the happiest there, 
Resigned one might be — possibly: but still 
Would not one shrink for shame's sake? Look at 

her 
And me! 

SIR ARTHUR. 

I never saw a better match, 

MABEL. 

I never had so sweet a compliment 
Paid me. I sha'n't forget it, Arthur. 



REGINALD. 



What 



Possesses all of you to try and turn 
The poor amount of head I have, I can't 



scene I. THE SISTERS. 83 

Imagine. One might think you had laid a bet 

To make a man shed tears by way of thanks 

And laugh at him for crying. Frank, — Arthur, — 

Anne, 
You know I know how good it is of you 
To wish me joy — and how I thank you: that 
You must know. 

ANNE. 

Surely, Reginald, we do. 
Good-will like ours could hardly miss, I trust, 
Of gratitude like yours. 

MABEL. 

What is it, Anne? 
What makes you smile so? 

ANNE. 

Would you have me frown ? 

MABEL. 

Rather than smile like that: you would not look 
So enigmatic. 

ANNE. 

Let it pass, my dear : 
We shall not smile to-morrow, when we play 



84 THE SISTERS. act III. 

Tragedy — shall we? Are the properties 
Ready — stiletto and poison-flask ? 



REGINALD. 

Ah, there 
We are lucky. There's the old laboratory, made 
It seems for our stage purpose, where you know 
Sir Edward kept his chemicals and things — 
Collections of the uncanniest odds and ends, 
Poisons and weapons from all parts of the earth, 
Which Arthur lets us choose from. 

ANNE. ' 

Are they safe 
To play with? 

MABEL. 

Are we children, Annie? Still 
Perhaps you are right : we had better let them be. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

The daggers are not dangerous — blunt as lead — 
That I shall let you youngsters play with. 



SCENE I. 



THE SISTERS. 85 



REGINALD. 

Go 
But how about the poison? let us have 
A genuine old Venetian flask to fill 
With wine and water. 

ANNE. 

Let me choose it. 



MABEL. 

You? 
Why? 

ANNE. 

I know more about such things. 



MABEL. 

About 
Poison? 

ANNE. 

About the loveliest old-world ware 
Fonthill or Strawberry Hill could furnish: I'm 
Miss Backford, or Horatia Walpole. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

Come 
And take your choice of the empty flasks. Don't 

choose 
A full one by mistake. 



86 THE SISTERS, 



ACT III. 



ANNE. 

I promise not. 

[Exeunt Sir Arthur and Anne. 

frank. 
I leave you to consult together, then — 
The playwright and his heroine: that's but fair. 

[Exit. 

MABEL. 

I don't quite like it, Redgie: I'm afraid 
A11112 is not happy: I'm afraid. 

REGINALD. 

My' love, 
Is any one unhappy in the world? 
I can't just now believe in wretchedness. 

MABEL. 

But I can. Redgie, do be good — and grave. 
I talk to you as if you were grown-up, 
You see. 

REGINALD. 

You do me too much honor. 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 87 



MABEL. 



That 



I do, you stupidest of tiresome boys. 

Still, you were never ill-natured were you? Well, 

Have you not — boys see nothing — don't you think 

You might have seen, had you but eyes, that Anne 

Is not — I don't say (that would be absurd) 

As happy as we are — no one could be that — 

But not — not happy at all ? 

REGINALD. 

My darling, no. 
What dream is this — what lunacy of love? 

MABEL. 

Well — I must tell you everything, I see — 
I wish I did not and I could not think 
Her heart or fancy — call it either — were 
More fixed on Frank than ever his on me. 

REGINALD. 

Eh! Well, why not? If he can come to love 

Any one, after thinking once he loved 

You — and you would not have it break his heart 



88 THE SISTERS. 



ACT III. 



Quite, would you? — what could well befall us all 

Happier than this? You don't suppose he can? 

To me it seems — you know how hard and strange 

It seems to hope or fancy: but God grant 

It may be ! If old Frank were happy once, 

I should not feel I ought not — now and then — 

To be so happy always. 

MABEL. 

But you ought. 
How good you are, Redgie ! 

REGINALD. 

O, very good. 
I'd like — I want — to see my dearest friends 
Happy — without a touch of trouble or pains 
For me to take or suffer. Wonderful, 
Is it not ? saintly — great — heroic ? 

MABEL. 

Well, 
I think you may — I think we shall. But don't 
Be boyish — don't be prompting Frank: you know, 
Reginald, what I mean. 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 89 



REGINALD. 

Yes : that he may — 
Will, very likely — want a hand like yours 
Rather than mine to help him — bring him 

through — 
Give him a lift or shove. 



MABEL. 

Leave well alone. 

REGINALD. 



That's all I mean. 



You always did know best, 
And always will : I shall be always right 
Now that my going or doing or saying depends 
On you. It's well you are what you are: you 

might, 
If you were evil-minded, make a man 
Run from his post — betray or yield his flag — 
Duck down his head and scuttle. 



MABEL. 

Not a man 



Like you. 



90 THE SISTERS. act hi, 

REGINALD. 

Let no man boast himself; does not 
The Bible say — something like that? 

MABEL. 

Perhaps. 
But then you don't, and never did, you know — 
Not even about this play of yours. Come in : 
The windy darkness creeps and leaps by fits 
Up westward : clouds, and neither stars nor sun, 
And just the ghost of a lost moon gone blind 
And helpless. If we are to play at all, 
I must rehearse my part again to-night. [Exeunt 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 9 1 



ACT IV. 

Scene I, — A stage representing a garden by the sea. 
Song {from within). 

Love and Sorrow met in May 
Crowned with rue and hawthorn-spray, 

And Sorrow smiled. 
Scarce a bird of all the spring 
Durst between them pass and sing, 

And scarce a child. 

Love put forth his hand to take 
Sorrow's wreath for sorrow's sake, 

Her crown of rue. 
Sorrow cast before her down 
Even for love's sake Love's own crown, 

Crowned with dew. 

Winter breathed again, and spring 
Cowered and shrank with wounded wing 

Down out of sight. 
May, with all her loves laid low, 
Saw no flowers but flowers of snow 

That mocked her flight. 



92 THE SISTERS. ACT iv. 

Love rose up with crownless head 
Smiling down on springtime dead, 

On wintry May. 
Sorrow, like a cloud that flies, 
Like a cloud in clearing skies, 

Passed away. 



Enter Alvise. 

alvise. 

This way she went: the nightingales that heard 
Fell silent, and the loud-mouthed salt sea-wind 
Took honey on his lips from hers, and breathed 
The new-born breath of roses. Not a weed 
That shivers on the storm-shaped lines of shore 
But felt a fragrance in it, and put on 
The likeness of a lily. 

Enter G a lasso. 

GALASSQ. 

Thou art here. 
God will not let thee hide thyself too close 
For hate and him to find thee. Draw: the light 
Is good enough to die by. 



scene I. THE SISTERS. 93 

ALVISE. 

Thou hast found him 

That would have first found thee. Set thou thy 

sword 

To mine, its edge is not so fain to bite 

As is my soul to slay thee. 

\They draw. 

Enter Beatrice and Francesca. 

BEATRICE. 

What is this ? 
What serpent have ye trod on? 

ALVISE. 

Didst thou bid me 
Draw, seeing far off the surety for thy life 
That women's tongues should bring thee? 

BEATRICE. 

Speak not to him. 
Speak to me — me, Alvise. 

ALVISE. 

Sweet, be still. 
Galassi, shall I smite thee on the lips 



94 THE SISTERS. act iv. 

That dare not answer with a lie to mine 
And know they cannot, if they speak, but lie? 

CALASSO. 

Thou knowest I dare not in Beatrice's sight 
Strike thee to hell — nor threaten thee. 

ALVISE. 

I know 
Thou liest. She stands between thy grave and 

thee, 
As thou between the sun and hell. 

FRANCESCA. 

My lord, 
Forbear him. 

GALASSO. 

I am not thy lord; who made me 
Master or lord of thine? Not God should say, 
Save with his tongue of thunder, and be heard 
(If hearing die not in a dead man's ear), 
"Forbear him." 

ALVISE. 

Nay, Beatrice, bid not me 
Forbear: he will not let me bid him live. 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 95 

GALASSO. 

Thou shalt not find a tongue some half-hour hence 
To pray with to my sword for time to pray 
And die not damned. 

FRANCESCA. 

Sir, spaak not blasphemy. 
Death's wings beat round about us day and night: 
Their wind is in our faces now. I pray you, 
Take heed. 

GALASSO. 

Of what? of God, or thee? Not I. 
But let Beatrice bend to me — 

ALVISE. 

To thee? 
Bend? Nay, Beatrice, bind me not in chains, 
Who would not play thy traitor: give my sword 
What God gives all the waves and birds of the air, 
Freedom. 

BEATRICE. 

He gives it not to slay. 



96 THE SISTERS. act iv. 

ALVISE. 

He shall. 
Are the waves bloodless or the vultures bland? 
Loose me, love: leave me: let me go. 

BEATRICE. 

Thou shalt not 
Put off for me before my face thy nature, 
Thy natural name of man, to mock with murder 
The murderous waves and beasts of ravin. Slay 

me, 
And God may give thee leave to slay him: I 
Shall know not of it ever. 

GALASSO. 

Vivarini, 

These women's hands that here strike peace 

between us 

To-morrow shall not stead thee. Live a little: 

My sword is not more thirsty than the sea, 

Nor less secure in patience. Thou shalt find 

A sea-rock for thy shipwreck on dry land here 

When thou shalt steer again upon the steel of it 

And find its fang's edge mortal. 

{Exit. 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 97 



ALVISE. 



Have ye shamed me? 
Mine enemy goes down seaward with no sign 
Set of my sword upon him. 

BEATRICE. 

Let him pass. 
To-morrow brings him back from sea — if ever 
He come again. 

FRANCESCA. 

How should not he come back, then? 

BEATRICE. 

The sea hath shoals and storms. 

ALVISE. 

God guard him — till 
He stand within my sword's reach! 

FRANCESCA. 

Pray thou rather 
God keep thee from the reach of his. 



98 THE SISTERS. act iv. 

ALVISE. 

He cannot, 
Except he smite to death or deadly sickness 

of us ere we join. My saint Beatrice, 
Thou hast no commission, angel though thou be, 

sweet. 
Given thee of God to guard mine enemy's head 
Or cross me as his guardian. 

BEATRICE. 

Would I cross thee, 
The spirit I live by should stand up to chide 
The soul-sick will that moved me. Yet I would 

not, 
Had I God's leave in hand to give thee, give 
Thy sword and his such leave to cross as might 
Tierce through my heart in answer. 

ALVISE. 

Wouldst thou bid me, 
When he comes back to-morrow from the sea 
Whereon to-day his ship rides royal, yield 
Thee and my sword up to him? 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 

FRANCESCA. 

Nay, not her: 
Thy sword she might. 

ALVISE. 

She would not. 



BEATRICE. 



Fain I would, 



And keep thine honor perfect. 



ALVISE. 

That may be, 
When heaven and hell kiss, and the noon puts on 
The starry shadow of midnight. Sweet, come in: 
The wind grows keener than a flower should face 
And fear no touch of trouble. Doubt me not 
That I will take all heed for thee and me, 
Who am now no less than one least part of thee. 

[Exeunt. 



00 THE SISTERS. act iv. 



Scene II. — The same. 
Enter Beatrice and Francesca. 

BEATRICE. 

The wind is sharp as steel, and all the sky 

That is not red as molten iron black 

As iron long since molten. How the flowers 

Cringe down and shudder from the scourge ! I would 

Galasso's ship were home in harbor. 

FRANCESCA. 

Here? 

What comfort wonldst thou give him ? 

BEATRICE. 

What should I give thee ? 
Hadst thou some gentler maiden's mercy in thee, 
Thou might'st, though death hung shuddering on his 

lips 
And mixed its froth of anguish with the sea's, 
Revive him. 

FRANCESCA. 

I, Beatrice ? 



SCENE II. 



THE SISTERS. 



101 



BEATRICE. 



Who but thou, 



Francesca ? 



FRANCESCA. 

Mock not, lest thy scoff turn back 
Like some scared snake to sting thee. 

BEATRICE. 

Nay, not I 
Dost thou not mock me rather, knowing I know 
Thou lov'st him as I love not ? as I love 
Alvise ? 

FRANCESCA. 

There is none I love but God. 
Thou knowest he doth not love me. 



BEATRICE. 

Dost thou dream 
His love for me is even as thine for him, 
Born of a braver father than is hate, 
A fairer mother than is envy ? Me 
He loves not as he hates my lover : thou 
Mayst haply set — as in this garden-ground 



102 THE SISTERS. act iv. 

Half barren and all bitter from the sea 
Some light of lilies shoots the sun's laugh back — 
Even in the darkness of his heart and hate 
Some happier flower to spring against thy smile 
And comfort thee with blossom. 

FRANCESCA. 

Thou shouldst be not 
So fast a friend of mine : we were not born 
I a Mariani, a Signorelli thou, 
To play, with love and hate at odds with life, 
Sisters. 

BEATRICE. 

I know not in what coign of the heart 
The root of hate strikes hellward, nor what rains 
Make fat so foul a spiritual soil with life, 
Nor what plague-scattering planets feed with fire 
Such earth as brings forth poison. What is hate 
That thou and I should know it ? 

FRANCESCA. 

I cannot tell. 
Flowers are there deadlier than all blights of the air 
Or hell's own reek to heavenward : springs, whose 
water 



scene ii. THE SISTERS. 103 

Puts out the pure and very fire of life 
As clouds may quench the sunset : sins and sorrows 
Hate winged as love, and love walled round as hate is, 
With fear and weaponed wrath and arm-girt anguish, 
There have been and there may be. Wouldst thou 

dream now 
This flower were mortal poison, or this flasket 
Filled full with juice of colder-blooded flowers 
And herbs the faint moon feeds with dew, that warily 
I bear about me against the noonday's needs, 
When the sun ravins and the waters reek 
With lustrous fume and feverous light like fire, 
Preservative against it ? 

BEATRICE. 

Sure, the flower 
Could hurt no babe as bright and soft as it 
More than it hurts us now to smell to : nor 
Could any draught that heals or harms be found 
Preservative against it. 

FRAXCESCA. 

Yet perchance 
Preservative this draught of mine might prove 
Against the bitterness of life — of noon, 



104 THE SISTERS. act iv. 

I would say — heat, and heavy thirst, and faintness 
That binds with lead the lids of the eyes, and hangs 
About the heart like hunger. 

BEATRICE. 

I am athirst ; 
Thy very words have made me : and the noon 
Indeed is hot. Let me drink of it. 

FRANCESCA. 

Drink. 

BEATRICE. 

The wells are not so heavenly cold. What comfort 
Thou hast given me ! I shall never thirst again, 
I think. 

FRANCESCA. 

I am sure thou shalt not — till thou wake 
Out of the next kind sleep that shall fall on thee 
And hold thee fast as love, an hour or twain hence. 

BEATRICE. 

I thank thee for thy gentle words and promises 
More than for this thy draught of healing. Sleep 
Is half the seed of life — the seed and stay of it — 
And love is all the rest. 



scene ii. THE SISTERS. 105 

FRANCESCA. 

Thou art sure of that ? 
Be sure, then. 

BEATRICE. 

How should I be less than sure of it ? 
Alvise's love and thine confirm and comfort 
Mine own with like assurance. All the wind's wrath 
That darkens now the whitening sea to southward 
Shall never blow the flame that feeds the sun out 
Nor bind the stars from rising : how should grief, 

then, 
Evil, or envy, change or chance of ruin, 
Lay hand on love to mar him ? Death, whose tread 
Is white as winter's ever on the sea 
Whose waters build his charnel, hath no kingdom 
Beyond the apparent verge and bourn of life 
Whereon to reign or threaten. Love, not he, 
Is lord of chance and change : the moons and suns 
That measure time and lighten serve him not, 
Nor know they if a shadow at all there be 
That fear and fools call death, not seeing each year 
How thick men's dusty days and crumbling hours 
Fall but to rise like stars and bloom like flowers. 

[Exeunt. 



106 THE SISTERS. act iv. 



Scene III. — 7 he same. 
Enter Alvise and Beatrice. 

A L VISE. 

Thou art not well at case : come in again 
And rest : the day grows dark as nightfall, ere 
Night fall indeed upon it. 

BEATRICE. 

No, not yet. 
I do not fear the thunder, nor the sea 
That mocks and mates the thunder. What I fear 
I know not : but I will not go from hence 
Till that sea-thwarted ship's crew thwart the sea 
Or perish for its pasture. See, she veers, 
And sets again straight hither. All good saints, 
Whose eyes unseen of ours that here lack light 
Hallow the darkness, guard and guide her ! Lo, 
She reels again, and plunges shoreward : God, 
Whose hand with curb* immeasurable as they 
Bridles and binds the waters, bid the wind 
Fall down before thee silent ere it slay, 



scene in. THE SISTERS. 107 

And death, whose clarion rends the heart of the air, 
Be dumb as now thy mercy ! O, that cry 
Had more than tempest in it : life borne down 
And hope struck dead with horror there put forth 
Toward heaven that heard not for the clamoring sea 
Their last of lamentation, 

ALVISE. 

Some there are — 
Nay, one there is comes shoreward. If mine eyes 
Lie not, being baffled of the wind and sea, 
The face that flashed upon us out of hell 
Between the refluent and the swallowing wave 
Was none if not Galassi's. Nay, go in : 
Look not upon us. 

BEATRICE. 

Wherefore ? 

ALVISE. 

Must I not 
Save him to slay to-morrow ? If I let 
The sea's or God's hand slay mine enemy first, 
That hand strikes dead mine honor. [Exit. 



108 THE SISTERS. act iv. 



BEATRICE. 

Save him, Christ! 
God, save him! Death is at my heart: I feel 
His breath make darkness round me. 

Enter Francesca. 

FRANCESCA. 



Dost thou live yet ? 



Dost thou live ? 

BEATRICE. 

I know not. What art thou, 



To question me of life and death ? 



FRANCESCA. 



I am not 



The thing I was. 



BEATRICE. 

The friend I loved and knew thee 
Thou art not. This fierce night that leaps up east- 
ward, 
Laughing with hate and hunger, loud and blind, 
Is not less like the sunrise. What strange poison 
Has changed thy blood, that face and voice and spirit 
(If spirit or sense bid voice or face interpret) 
Should change to this that meets me? 



scene in. THE SISTERS. 109 

FRANCESCA. 

Did I drink 
The poison that I gave thee ? Thou art dead now : 
Not the oldest of the world's forgotten dead 
Hath less to do than thou with life. Thou shalt not 
Set eyes again on one that loved thee : here 
No face but death's and mine, who hate thee deadlier 
Than life hates death, shalt thou set eyes on. Die, 
And dream that God may save thee : from my hands 
Alive thou seest he could not. 

Re-enter Alvise with Galasso. 

alvise. 

Stand, I say, 
Stand up. Thou hast no hurt upon thee. 'Stand, 
And gather breath to praise God's grace with. 



GALASSO. 

Thee 
First must I thank, who hast plucked me hardly back 
Forth of the ravening lips of death. What art thou ? 
This light is made of darkness. 



IIO THE SISTERS. ACT IV. 

ALVISE. 

Yet the darkness 
May serve to see thine enemy by : to-morrow 
The sun shall serve us better when we meet 
And sword to sword gives thanks for swordstrokes. 

GALASSO. 

No: 
The sun shall never see mine enemy more 
Now that his hand has humbled me. 

ALVISE. 

Forego not 
Thy natural right of manhood. Chance it was, 
Not I, that chose thee for my hand to save 
As haply thine had saved me, had the wind 
Flung me as thee to deathward. 

GALASSO. 

Dost thou think 
To live, and say it, and smile at me ? Thy saint 
Had heavenlier work to do than guard thee, when 
God gave thine evil star such power as gave thee 
Power on thine enemy's life to save it. Twice 
Thou shalt not save or spare me : if to-morrow 



scene m. THE SISTERS. 1 1 1 

Thy sword had borne down mine, thou haclst let me 

live 
And shamed me out of living : now, I am sure, 
Thou shalt not twice rebuke me. \_Siabs him. 

BEATRICE. 

Death is good : 
He gives me back Alvise. 

ALVISE. 

Was it thou 
Or God, Beatrice, speaking out of heaven 
Who turned my death to life ? 

BEATRICE. 

I am dying, Alvise : 
I thought to have left — perchance to have lost thee : 

now 
We shall not part for ever. [Dies. Alvise dies. 

FRANCESCA. 

Wilt thou stand 
Star-struck to death, Galasso ? Let our dead 
Lie dead, while we fly fleet as birds or winds 
Forth of the shadow of death, and laugh, and live 
As happy as these were hapless. 



112 THE SISTERS. act iv. 

GALASSO. 

She — is she 
Dead ? Hath she kissed the death upon his lips 
And fed it full from hers ? 

FRANCESCA. 

Why, dost thou dream 
I did not kill her? 

GALASSO. 

Not a devil in hell 
But one cast forth on earth could do it : and she 
Shall shame the light of heaven no longer. 

[Stabs her, 

FRANCESCA. 

Fool, 
Thou hast set me free from fate and fear : I knew 
Thou wouldst not love me. \_Dies. 

GALASSO. 

What am I, to live 
And see this death about me ? Death and life 
Cast out so vile a thing from sight of heaven. 
Save where the darkne'ss of the grave is deep, 
I cannot think to wake on earth or sleep. 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 113 



ACT V. 



Scene I. — An ante-chamber to the drawing-room. 



Enter Anne. 

ANNE. 

To bear my death about me till I die 

And always put the time off, tremblingly, 

As if I loved to live thus, would be worse 

Than death and meaner than the sin to die. 

The sin to kill myself — or think of it — 

I have sinned that sin already. Not a day 

That brings the day I cannot live to see 

Nearer, but burns my heart like flame and makes 

My thoughts within me serpents fanged with fire. 

He would not weep if I were dead, and she 

Would. If I make no better haste to die, 

I shall go mad and tell him — pray to him, 

If not for love, for mercy on me — cry 

" Look at me once — not as you look at her, 



1 14 THE SISTERS. act v. 

But not as every clay you look at me — 
And see who loves you, Reginald." Ah God, 
That one should yearn at heart to do or say 
What if it ever could be said or done 
Would strike one dead with shame 1 

mabel (singing in the next room). 
There's nae lark loves the lift, ray dear. 

There's nae ship loves the sea. 
There's nae bee loves the heather-bells, 

That loves as I love thee, my love, 

That loves as I love thee. 

The whin shines fair upon the fell, 

The blithe broom on the lea : 
The muirside wind is merry at heart : 

It's a" 1 for love of thee, my love, 

It's a' for love of thee. 

ANNE. 

For love of death, 
For love of death it is that all things live 
And all joys bring forth sorrows. Sorrow and death 
Have need of life and love to prey upon 
Lest they too die as theSe do. W 7 hat am I 
That I should live ? A thousand times it seems 



scene I. THE SISTERS. 115 

I have drawn this flasket out to look on it 

And dream of dying, since first I seized it — stole, 

And Arthur never missed it. Yet again 

The thought strikes back and stabs me, what are they, 

What are they all, that they should live, and I 

Die ? Arthur told me, surely, that this death 

Was pangless — swift and soft as when betimes 

We sink away to sleep. If sin it is, 

I will die praying for pardon : God must see 

I am no more fit to live than is a bird 

Wounded to death. 

Enter Sir Francis, Sir Arthur, and Frank. 

SIR FRANCIS. 

Well, Anne, and could you rest 
Well after murdering Mabel ? Here is Frank 
Declares his crimes would hardly let him sleep : 
While he who made you criminals appears 
Shamelessly happy. 

FRANK. 

Redgie always was 
Hardened : the plays he used to improvise 
At school were deep in bloodshed. 



Il6 THE SISTERS. act v. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

Let us trust 
That happiness and age may make his Muse 

Milder. 

ANNE. 

I am sure I hope so. It was hard 
To find yourself so wicked. 

SIR FRANCIS. 

Hard on you, 
Certainly. Were you tired ? 

ANNE. 

Why ? Do I look 
Tired ? 

SIR FRANCIS. 

Well, not tired exactly ; still, your eyes 
Look hot and dull. 

ANNE. 

All eyes cannot be bright 
Always, like Reginald's and Mabel's. 



scene i. THE SISTERS. 1 1 7 

SIR ARTHUR. 

Ah, 
It does one good to see them. Since the world 
Began, or love began it, never was 
A brighter pair of lovers. What a life 
Will theirs be, if the morning of it mean 
Really the thing it seems to say, and noon 
Keep half the promise of it ! 

FRANK. 

That it should, 
If they get only their deserts : they are, 
He the best fellow, she the best girl born. 

SIR FRANCIS. 

You're not a bad friend, Frank, I will say. 

ANNE. 



No 



He is not. 

SIR FRANCIS. 

What your father would have said 
To my approval of the match, perhaps 
It's best not guessing : but the harshest brute 
That ever made his broken-hearted ward 
The subject or the heroine of a tale 
Must, I think, have relented here. 



Il8 THE SISTERS. act v 



SIR ARTHUR. 

But still 
We are none the less your debtors — Redgie and I. 
It lays on me an obligation too, 
Your generous goodness to him. 

SIR FRANCIS. 

No, none at all. 
I would not let the youngster tell me so. 

Enter Reginald and Mabel. 

So, you can look us in the face, my boy, 
And not be, as you should-, ashamed to see 
How much less happy are other folk than you ? 
Your face is like the morning. 

REGINALD. 

Does it blush ? 
You'd see I was ashamed then. 

MABEL. 

What, of me, 
Redgie ? It's rather soon to say so. Still, 
It's not too late — happily. 



scene I. THE SISTERS. 119 

SIR FRANCIS. 

Nothing can 
Happen that does not fall out happily, 
It seems, for you — and nothing should, I think, 
Ever. Come with me, Frank : I want you. 

FRANK. 

Why ? 

SIR FRANCIS. 

I never thought you quite so dull till now. 

Come. [Exeunt Sir Francis and Frank. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

Take me with you : I'm superfluous too. 

[Exit. 

MABEL. 

Don't you go, Anne. 

ANNE. 

I will not if you wish. 

MABEL. 

I do, and so does Redgie. We have seen 
These last few days as little of you, you know, 
As if you had been — well, anywhere. 



120 THE SISTERS. act v. 



ANNE. 

Except, 
Remember, at rehearsals ; and last night 
We came against each other on the stage. 



MABEL. 

Indeed we did. Is that a property 
You have kept about you ? 

ANNE. 

What ? where ? this — ah no, 
A — something for a touch of cold I caught 
Last night — I think at least it was last night. 
Arthur prescribed it for me. 

MABEL. 

Let me taste. 
I am hoarse — I am sure I must be hoarse to-day 
With rattling out all Redgie's rant — much more 
Than you did. 

ANNE. 

No : you do not want it. 

MABEL. 

Anne ! 



scene I. THE SISTERS. 121 



ANNE. 



You cannot want it, Mabel. 



MABEL. 

How can you 
Know ? Don't be positive — and selfish. 

ANNE. 

There — 
Take it. No — do not taste it, Mabel. 

MABEL. 

Look, 
Redgie, how strange a pretty color ! Why, 
One wants a name to praise it — and it smells 
Like miles on miles of almond-blossom, all 
Condensed in one full flower. If this had been 
The poison Anne and you prepared for me, 
I really would have taken it last night 
And not pretended, as I did, to sip, 
And kept my lips dry. [Drinks. 

REGINALD. 

Does the flavor match 
The color ? 



122 THE SISTERS. act v. 

MABEL. 

It's a sweet strange taste. Don't you 
Try : you won't like it. 

REGINALD. 

Let me know, at least. 

[Drinks. 

ANNE. 

You do not yet : or do you now know ? 



MABEL. 

Anne ! 
What have we done — and you ? What is it ? 



ANNE. 

Death, 
Mabel. You see, you would not let me die 

And leave you living. 

MABEL. 

Death ? She is mad — she is mad ! 
Reginald, help us — her and me — but her 
First. 

REGINALD. 

I can hardly help myself to stand. 
Sit you down by me. 



SCENE I. 



THE SISTERS. 1 23 



ANNE. 

Can the sun still shine ? 
I did not mean to murder you. 

MABEL. 

And yet 
We are dying, are we not — dying? 

ANNE. 

I meant 
To die, and never sin again or see 
How happy past all dreams of happiness 
You, whom he loved, and he, who loved you, were. 

Re-enter Sir Francis, Sir Arthur, and Frank. 

SIR FRANCIS. 

We are here again, you see, already. Why, 
What strange new tragic play is this you are all 
Rehearsing? 

ANNE. 

Mabel, if you can forgive, 
Say so. I may remember that in hell. 

MABEL. 

I do. And so does Redgie. But you might 
Have spared or saved him. 



124 THE SISTERS. act v. 

ANNE. 

How, and let you die ? 

REGINALD. 

Ah, how ? She did not mean it. 

ANNE. 

And do you 
Forgive me ? 

REGINALD. 

Surely. I am one with her, 
And she forgives. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

They are dying indeed. And she 

REGINALD. 

No. She did not mean. 

MABEL. 

Indeed, 
She did not. 

SIR FRANCIS. 

God in heaven ! What dream is this? 



Has killed them. 



scene I. THE SISTERS. 1 25 



ANNE. 



God help me ! But God will not. I must die 
Alone, if they forgive me. I must die. [Exit. 

REGINALD. 

It was a terrible accident, you see — 
Was it not, Mabel ? That is all we know. 

MABEL. 

AIL 

FRANK. 

Redgie, will you speak to me ? 

REGINALD. 

Good night, 
Frank — dear old Frank — my brother and hers. 

And you, 
Good night, dear Arthur. Think we are going to see 
Our mother, Mabel — Frank's and ours. 

MABEL. 

I will. 
But, Reginald, how hard it is to go ! 



126 THE SISTERS. act v. 

REGINALD. 

We have been so happy, darling, let us die 
Thinking of that, and thanking God. 



MABEL. 

I will. 
Kiss me. Ah, Redgie ! [Dies, 



REGINALD. 

Mabel ! I am here. [Dies. 

SIR ARTHUR. 

They could have lived no happier than they die. 



THE END. 



THE SISTERS 



(ft &X<\$ti>y 



BY 

ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE 



NEW YORK 

UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY 

SUCCESSORS TO 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 

142 TO 150 WORTH STREET 



7 



